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I once wished my room had a window. I could watch the world pass by. Like bougainvillea flowers merrily drifting in
the winds. Fragrance of love wafting in the air. The street lamps glowing yellow. Hawkers selling their goods. The new mall flinging its neon lights
unto the streets. The crazy young crowds. Random children chuckling as they
walk. Bike competitions. The busy bees. The old, abandoned and helpless. The madman calling names. The rains. Gods visiting homes while playing with
colours. The police patrols. The riots. Someone could shatter my window panes. So I loathe windows. Broken windows are painful.